


Everything I need I get from you

by pineapple_tea



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Liam, Domestic, Ice Cream, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Microwave Dinners, Riding, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 17:25:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8542171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineapple_tea/pseuds/pineapple_tea
Summary: Proposal fic, which is actually just an excuse for smut.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is for the Sunshine gc, and is based on an au we talked about months and months ago
> 
> the first 1000 words of this has just been hanging out in my drafts for like a month and i decided to finish it today

It’s dark out by the time Liam pushes open the door of their flat. He’d been hoping against hope for light to be spilling out from the kitchen, for Harry’s soft humming as he gets dinner ready, for Harry’s tired smile and the touch of his fingertips when he unwinds Liam’s tie and undoes the top few buttons of Liam’s shirt and Liam can finally relax. It’s their ritual, something Liam has been drawing strength from recently amid the exhaustion of too-long workdays.

 

The flat is still, silent. Liam sets his bag down in the hallway, rubbing a hand over his face, the scruff of his jaw catching too rough on his palm - a reminder of the past week’s hectic mornings and late nights. He needs to shave, but all he wants to do right now is sit down with Harry for dinner and be kissed, and then fall straight into bed and sleep for a year. It’s Thursday and he feels like the energy has been sapped out of him. Friday seems like an insurmountable challenge. 

 

In the kitchen, the bright lights make Liam blink when he flicks them on. He checks the fridge and sighs to see that they’re out of anything that might constitute part of a five-a-day. He stares blankly into the fridge for a few more seconds, exhaustion settled too deep into his joints to shake off. It would be nice, he thinks, for Harry to come home to a home-cooked meal, but that doesn’t seem possible tonight. Instead, he pulls open the freezer. There’s a couple bags of frozen peas, and Liam pushes them aside, rolling his shoulders to get rid of the ache in his back, stress having laid itself, heavy, across his shoulder blades. He finds a few frozen curries and makes a little stack of them on the countertop. 

 

The house is too quiet. Liam undoes his tie with heavy fingers, and rolls his sleeves up, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt with one hand while he rattles through the cutlery drawer with the other. 

 

The front door clicks open as Liam selects the time on the microwave and presses start. Seconds later, Harry is pressing himself to Liam’s back, his big hand sliding up to rest in the middle of Liam’s chest, his nose pressed to Liam’s neck, breathing him in. A tired little smile settles itself on Liam’s mouth when Harry drops a kiss at the nape of his neck, another just above the starched collar of his work shirt. 

 

“Hi,” says Harry, the drag of his lips on Liam’s skin making something soft and warm and whole settle into Liam’s chest. Liam’s hand comes up to tangle his fingers with the hand Harry has pressed to his chest, thumb sliding over the little cross tattooed there. 

 

“Hey, love,” says Liam, voice low when he turns in Harry’s arms, slides his hands over Harry’s shoulders and nudges their noses together to greet Harry with a kiss. 

 

Harry leans in, responsive to the soft way Liam kisses him, and pulls back slowly, palms on Liam’s cheeks, to gentle his thumbs over the prints of sleeplessness under Liam’s eyes. “Sorry m’late,” he says. Just the way he speaks - slow and warm and so familiar - dissolves some of the residual stress from the day.

 

“It’s alright, love,” says Liam, fingers sneaking under the hem of Harry’s shirt to smooth over his back, warm palms slow up the curve of his spine. “Got dinner started.”

 

The warmth of Harry’s skin under Liam’s hands feels like home, and he pulls Harry into a proper hug to feel his boyfriend melt against him, to feel Harry’s long fingers wind into his hair and muss the styled strands until they rest in that hectic, boyish style. Until it’s more like the curls Liam had when Harry first met him, soft in the way that always startles him when he looks in the mirror after Harry’s been kissing him for hours, and he blinks at his reflection with a sweet pink blush over his cheeks and dark eyes and wild hair. They haven’t done that in a while, just kissed the time away. 

 

“I miss you,” says Liam. It sounds silly the moment it leaves his mouth, but Harry smiles, a little lopsided and a little sad. 

 

“I know,” says Harry, “I miss you, too, Li.” 

 

They’re quiet for a bit, settling into the easy physical comfort they afford each other, and then Harry says, “D’you wanna hear a knock knock joke?”

 

Liam huffs a laugh, pulling back, but Harry’s hand slips down his arm and tangles their fingers together when Liam leans back against the counter. 

 

“Knock knock,” says Harry, dimples appearing along with a giggle. 

 

Liam, unable to fight the smile on his own face says, “Who’s there?”

 

Harry stumbles a bit under the weight of his own laughter, and he falls into Liam, their legs tangled together as Liam leans further into the counter. Their foreheads nudge together and Liam’s eyes crinkle shut for a moment under the force of his smile. 

 

“We’re going on a vacation,” says Harry, still grinning, but there’s something a bit more serious behind his eyes. 

 

Liam blinks, smile shifting to something more inquisitive. “What?”

 

“Liam!” says Harry, tugging at their entwined hands. 

 

“Oh,” says Liam, “sorry. We’re going on a vacation, who?”

 

Harry grins, shuffles closer. Liam can’t resist poking at Harry’s dimple with a fond smile, and Harry catches his hand to press a kiss to the palm. 

 

“Me and you,” says Harry. “Monday’s a holiday so we have a long weekend.”

 

Immediately, a the long list of things he still has to get done for work drags through his mind; the unanswered emails in his inbox, the clients he has to contact, the pile of papers on his desk threatening to topple. His hand drops slowly from Harry’s and he can feel regret pull the easy smile off his face. “I’m not sure I can, babe,” he says, hand resting on Harry’s jaw.

 

A little crease appears between Harry’s eyebrows and Liam aches to smooth it out. “You don’t even know where we’re going yet,” says Harry, a pout sneaking its way into his voice. 

 

Liam sighs. “I’ve got so much work, Haz. I’d love to, though. I really would.”

 

Harry’s frown deepens. “You’re such an old man,” he says. Liam can tell Harry is a bit hurt, but not close to giving up yet.

 

The microwave beeps to signal that the food is done, and Liam turns away from Harry to get the curries out, peeling back the packaging and setting out the bowls. He can feel Harry’s disappointed eyes on him, and the guilt weighs down his shoulders again, stress crawling down his spine and settling heavy in his lungs. Abruptly, he craves a cigarette, but he pushes that to the back of his mind, taps his fingers on the countertop and misses the weight of the lightweight card cigarette box, the lingering scent of tobacco, and the rush of nicotine. 

 

Harry’s fingers sneak to tangle with Liam’s on the countertop, bringing Liam’s attention back to him slowly. “Liam, love,” says Harry, “It’s a weekend. You couldn’t even go to the office if you wanted to.” 

 

“Fine,” Liam huffs, reluctant smile working its way onto his mouth. He can rearrange things, make some calls to get this weekend clear. “Where are you taking me?”

 

“Spain,” says Harry, rocking back on his heels like he’s been keeping the secret in too long. 

 

“Christ, really?” says Liam. 

 

“Yeah,” says Harry, his smile back again. Liam intensely regrets ever being the cause of its disappearance in the first place. “Just outside Barcelona. A two hour flight and then a week watching you lounge shirtless on the beach.” Harry squeezes his hands in a quick burst of excitement, and Liam leans forward to kiss him. After all, it’s just as much Harry’s vacation as his, and it’s a bit selfish to deprive him of that. Harry’s lips are easy under Liam’s. He tastes like spearmint gum and home, and Liam nips his bottom lip to make him smile as they pull back. 

 

“I thought you meant Brighton Pier, or a B&B in Kent,” says Liam, chuffed at the idea of an endless, sunny coast. 

 

Harry shakes his head, leaning in to nose up Liam’s neck. “You’re gonna love our hotel room,” he says, low and a little rough by Liam’s ear, “M’gonna fuck you any way you like - on the bed, up against the window. You can watch the sunset while I make you come. The room’s got _very_ big windows.” A magnet on the fridge shaped like a banana stares at Liam over Harry’s shoulder as Liam tries to work out why Harry made ‘big windows’ sound like a euphemism, and what exactly that would be a euphemism _for_.

 

“Sounds lovely,” says Liam, turned on despite, or possibly entirely because of, his boyfriend’s ridiculousness. Harry grins and bites Liam’s ear. 

 

“It will be,” says Harry confidently, pulling back, still holding both of Liam’s hands. His eyes are a  dark now, and green. His smile is bright and Liam loves him quite a bit, actually. “You’re going to feed me tapas and fresh fruit,” Harry continues, “and take me to clubs, and drink quite a bit of tequila, and suck my cock in the loos.” 

 

Liam smiles, feeling a faint blush heat his cheeks at Harry’s grin, now bordering salacious. “Will I?” says Liam, tongue wetting his bottom lip. 

 

“I’m making predictions based on cold, hard, fact.” Harry states, with a little nod, and his smile is so cheeky, Liam can’t help but kiss him. 

 

“Well,” says Liam, lips dragging against Harry’s as he pulls back, “maybe not altogether _cold_.”

 

A little furrow appears between Harry’s brows, and then he smiles. “Liam,” he says, delighted, “that barely even made sense!”

 

Liam fits their smiles together in another semblance of a kiss to shut him up. 

 

                       ***

 

“Hang on,” says Liam, once they’re settled in their pajamas on the couch, QI on the telly, sharing a bowl of ice cream. Liam turns to look at Harry, who’s sitting behind him, running his fingers through Liam’s hair. “What do you mean, a week?”

 

“Hm?” says Harry, turning back from the tv program. Liam gets to watch that slow smile appear, and he shifts out of Harry’s hold a bit, sitting back against the couch cushions. 

 

“Earlier, you said you’re going to spend a week staring at me shirtless, which is a bit creepy, Mr. Styles.” Liam raises his eyebrows. 

 

“I called Rebecca,” says Harry, reaching to take the spoon from Liam’s hand and dig into their bowl of ice cream. “She cleared your schedule for the next week.” Harry’s grin is only slightly sheepish. 

 

For a moment, Liam finds it in himself to be annoyed, but then he sighs, and rests back into Harry’s steady warmth, some kind of weight lifted from his shoulders. He laces his fingers with Harry’s. “You’re so good for me,” he says quietly, hiding his smile as he kisses over Harry’s knuckles. 

 

Harry laughs, the same way he did when they were sixteen and newly in love, with fumbling kisses and messing about instead of finishing their maths homework. He tucks his face into Liam’s neck, nuzzles under Liam’s jaw to press kisses to the stubble on his cheeks. “I just want to see you happy, love,” he murmurs, “we’ve both been running ourselves ragged with work. I think we both forgot for a moment why we work at all.” 

 

Liam turns to meet Harry’s kisses, to press their mouths together for a moment. He breaks the kiss only to settle away from Harry, against the couch cushions. “Come here, darling,” he says, always soft for Harry, reaching for him. Harry puts down the ice cream and climbs into Liam’s lap, settling over his thighs with a smile. They fit together sweetly as a sunrise, and just as dependable. “I love you,” says Liam, tilting his head up for a kiss, and Harry complies, hands settling on Liam’s shoulders, even the rhythm of his breathing so comforting, alleviating any residual stress. He tastes like mint ice cream, and home. 

 

Liam’s body comes alive slowly with warmth, from the sweet slide of Harry’s tongue, and the familiar way Harry smooths his hands down over Liam’s chest, palms warm through the thin fabric of Liam’s shirt. 

 

Liam’s hands slip under Harry’s shirt, sliding up his back to feel the play of muscle, to press his palm to the warm heartbeat under Harry’s skin. He lifts the hem up, and Harry lets him pull it off. He looks turned on and lovely, with his pink mouth and pink cheeks. Liam tilts his chin up for a quick peck, before touching his lips to Harry’s throat, breathing him in, as his hands settle on the softness at Harry’s hips. He opens his mouth under Harry’s jaw, kissing him slowly, and he feels Harry shiver in his arms. 

 

Liam teases his tongue over Harry’s pulse point, hot mouth on his throat, a scrape of teeth over exposed skin. He smiles at Harry’s moan, nipping at his earlobe in response to get another one, hearing it rumble at the back of Harry’s throat. 

 

Harry fumbles with Liam’s shirt, pulling it off and throwing it to the side, where Liam will have to pick it up later. Harry distracts him with more kisses, fingers finding Liam’s nipples, pinching at them as he licks into Liam’s mouth, and Liam’s cock thickens in his pants as he moans. 

 

Harry smiles into Liam’s mouth in response, warm in Liam’s lap. “What’re you smiling about, sunshine?” says Liam, squeezing Harry’s hips lightly. 

 

“Just happy,” sighs Harry, resting his head on Liam’s shoulder for a moment. Liam winds his arms around Harry’s waist, holding him, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

 

“You gonna take me to bed, then, love?” says Liam, hands rubbing Harry’s sides. Harry squirms in his lap with a laugh, ticklish, and then sits back, still smiling. A hand cups Liam’s cheek, and Harry pulls him in for another kiss. 

 

“Yeah,” says Harry, finally, shifting reluctantly out of Liam’s lap, and offering a hand up. The outline of his cock is clear against his tight grey pants, and Liam wants to catch his hips and pull him closer so he can put his mouth on it, but then they’ll never leave the living room. Harry grins - he can tell what Liam’s thinking just by following his gaze - but he guides Liam up off the couch, and tangles their fingers together. “C’mon, you,” he says, and leads Liam to their bedroom, almost tripping over their sleeping dog, curled up by the doorway.

 

They hush each other, giggling into each other’s bare skin as they pad quietly around her, and then close the door as softly as they can, to avoid waking her up. Liam feels so happy, ridiculously carefree. It’s lovely, to be like this, to be reminded of the easiness they’ve always had with each other. The past week has been so hectic, they’ve hardly even had time to see each other, but they always find a way to make it work, always find their way back to each other. 

 

Harry’s touches are steady and sweet as they make their way to the bed, and he nudges Liam down onto it, Liam bouncing onto the mattress with a huff, spread out on his back, bare toes curling in their carpeted floor. He goes to the gym most lunchtimes, but there’s still that softness at his tummy, the roundness to his cheeks. He’s never not felt sexy with Harry though, never felt like he shouldn’t be showing off under Harry’s gaze. 

 

Harry drops to his knees easily, burying his face in Liam’s lap, prompting a giggle as he nuzzles into Liam’s hipbone. His fingers ease under the waistband of Liam’s white boxers, pressing his hot mouth briefly over the wet patch in the cotton, before dragging them down over Liam’s thighs, and throwing them across the room with an obnoxious grin.

 

“Harry,” Liam sighs, shifting up onto his elbows to fix him with a stern gaze, but Harry just presses an open-mouthed kiss to Liam’s knee, looking up at him through dark eyelashes, and Liam relents, letting his thighs part further. “What am I gonna do with you?” he says, with a fond smile.

 

“Anything you want,” suggests Harry, hands settling on Liam’s upper thighs, mouth pink and a bit swollen. 

 

Liam drags his teeth over his own swollen bottom lip. 

 

They look at each other for a moment, until Harry laughs, silly and gorgeous, between Liam’s legs. “You can’t even decide, can you?” says Harry giggling as he pokes Liam’s thigh.

 

Liam laughs, legs lifting with the force of it, and Harry puts an anchoring hand on Liam’s knee, looking helplessly fond. “No,” says Liam, when he settles back onto his elbows with an adoring gaze, “want everything with you, Haz.”

 

Harry looks a bit overwhelmed for a flash of a moment, but he covers it with a smile. “Love you, Li,” he says instead, standing up and getting on the bed to settle himself in Liam’s lap again, still in his pants. 

 

Liam reaches out to grasp Harry’s hand, so he can tangle their fingers together, tugging slightly until Harry leans down and kisses him. “You could fuck me,” suggests Liam against the plush of Harry’s mouth. 

 

Harry bites at Liam’s full bottom lip in response. “Yeah,” he says looking down at Liam with dark eyes when he pulls back, “wanna take care of you, baby.”

 

Liam feels his cheeks heat. They’ve been together for years, since they were teenagers, and Harry can still make him blush. 

 

Lube is pulled from their bedside drawer with fumbling fingers, distracted from their course by sweet, deep kisses. Harry fingers Liam open slowly, Liam spread out on his front over the sheets, pillow tucked under his hips. It’s lovely like this, Harry’s hot mouth on the underside of his jaw, his shoulderblades, the nape of his neck, murmuring about how lovely Liam is, how pretty he is spread out like this. The slow, sweet rhythm of Harry’s fingers, two, working inside him, wet with lube and stretching him open. Liam’s cock is dripping onto the pillow, but his thighs are soft under Harry’s hands, his skin pink with a hot blush, sighing out a moan when Harry sinks his teeth into Liam’s shoulder as he slips his fingers over Liam’s prostate. 

 

“Fuck,” groans Liam, thighs spreading wider, fingers curling into the bedsheets. 

 

“You want a third one?” says Harry, picking up the lube again. Liam makes a soft noise when Harry pulls his fingers out, and he nods into the bedsheets, feeling vulnerable and small in the best way under Harry’s touches. “You okay, love?” Harry noses along Liam’s spine, pressing kisses to the flushed skin, squeezing a steadying hand to Liam’s hip as he rubs three slicked fingers over Liam’s open hole. The words that fall from Harry’s mouth are usually dirty, said to make Liam squirm and whine and beg for it, but sometimes they’re soft, like this. Made to make Liam feel nothing but loved. Liam wants him either way, but right now, just this is all he needs. 

 

“Feels good,” sighs Liam, hips shifting back as Harry pushes his fingers in, a slow, sweet burn that tingles up Liam’s spine, his toes curling in the covers bunched around his ankles.

 

“Yeah,” says Harry, curling his fingers to catch against Liam’s prostate again. Liam whimpers, sliding his cock against the pillow beneath his hips, the wet head of it catching on his tummy, and he gasps. Harry knows Liam can come just from fingers filling him up, curling inside him just right. He usually needs a tongue alongside them, though, but Harry just pulls his fingers out. 

 

Harry’s hands are light at his hips, and Liam rolls over, gaze soft and heavy-lidded. He knows he must look wrecked just from Harry’s long fingers. Harry looks so lovely above him, though, Liam having had the same effect on him, without giving him anything much at all. 

 

“Come on,” says Liam, something a little desperate dipping in his tummy. He gets a loose hand around his own cock, mouth falling open as he slides the foreskin over the head, little bright bursts of pleasure shocking a moan from him. 

 

“Look like you’re doing alright by yourself, actually, Liam,” says Harry. He looks hungry, despite the tease of a smile in his voice. His eyes roam over Liam’s body, pausing to watch Liam’s hand work over his cock, fingers dipping down between his thighs to play with balls. 

 

“Shut it,” says Liam with a grin, a bit breathless, watching as Harry shoves his own pants down, dropping them over the side of the bed, before moving to settle against up against the padded headboard. Harry pats his own thighs with raised eyebrows, and Liam lets out a laugh, rolling over to get up on his knees and settle over Harry’s thighs, their cocks sliding together, startling a gasp from Liam, and a low moan from Harry. 

 

Liam sits up, and Harry’s hand steadies the thick of his own cock between Liam’s thighs. His other hand smoothes down the dip of Liam’s spine to slip fingers against Liam’s slicked-open hole, and Liam curls his fingers just under the head of Harry’s cock to help guide it to catch on the pink of his own rim.

 

Sighing sweetly, Liam pushes back against the push of Harry’s cock, mouth dropping open as the thick head stretches him open. “ _God_ , Harry,” he groans. Harry’s hands anchor at Liam’s hips, following Liam’s pace as he sinks down onto Harry’s dick, toes curling at the stretch, fingers digging into Harry’s shoulders. 

 

“So good, baby,” praises Harry, a little breathless. 

 

Liam kisses him, their mouths meeting, wet and plush, as they settle together. He squeezes at Harry’s shoulders slightly before he moves, lifting himself on Harry’s cock, and then sinking slowly back down again with a moan. Harry watches Liam with a quiet kind of reverence, fingers sliding through Liam’s hair where he’s let it grow out a bit, curling a bit around his ears, over his forehead. 

 

Liam works up a steady rhythm in Harry’s lap, slow and sweet. Harry rocks up into him, feet planted on the mattress for leverage. They move together, Harry catching Liam’s moans with deep kisses, big hands sliding from Liam’s hips to the small of his back, one hand cupping his arse as it flexes, guiding the movement of Liam’s hips. 

 

Liam nuzzles against Harry’s jaw, the subtle scent of Harry’s cologne growing heady with the slight sheen of sweat on his skin. 

 

They build up slowly, Harry gathering Liam close, an arm around his waist until he’s guiding the pace completely, fucking up into Liam with devastating thrusts, Liam moaning helplessly. It’s a bit difficult in this position, and Harry’s face is flushed, so pretty where the blush dips down across his collarbones. Sweat curls slightly in his hair as he fucks Liam thoroughly, Liam clinging to Harry’s biceps, pressing messy kisses to his cheek. It’s so good he can barely think, but he knows he’s letting out little punched moans whenever Harry thrusts particularly deep. 

 

Suddenly, there’s a pause in the rhythm, and Liam barely has enough time to catch his breath before Harry is easing them over, gathering Liam’s legs around his waist, moving one to rest over his shoulder. Living with Harry means early-morning yoga on the weekends, and Liam is thankful for it as Harry bends to kiss him, rolling his hips into Liam so thick and deep, that all Liam can do is groan, fumbling Harry’s name against damp skin like a mantra. 

 

It’s overwhelming - Harry looking sweaty and so lovely above him, Harry’s cock fucking into him so slow and sweet, that Liam aches. It’s easier for Harry to find Liam’s prostate like this, with Liam spread out exactly how Harry wants him, and Liam’s back arches up off the bed as much as he can when the head of Harry’s dick slides over it. 

 

“Fuck,” rasps Liam, stomach tensing, brow twisting, and Harry kisses over his forehead like he can smooth the wrinkle by willpower alone. 

 

“Liam,” says Harry, voice rough, edging on desperate, “you look so fucking good, baby. Don’t know how I got this lucky.”

 

Liam laughs, heart tripping over itself in his chest, even as he writhes in the sheets, thighs shaking at the stretch, at the way Harry’s thick cock fills him up. 

 

“Dunno, either,” he just about manages, and Harry laughs, those heart-stopping dimples appearing, sweat sheened across his chest, anywhere their skin meets. He presses a kiss to Liam’s ankle, where Liam’s leg is thrown over his shoulder. 

 

Harry doesn’t ask if he’s close - it’s written all over Liam’s body language, in the way he can barely stay still, spread out over the mattress, hair wrecked, mouth bitten pink. Liam doesn’t reach down to touch himself, though. There’s something about his own desperation that slows him down - he wants this to last just a bit longer, something building in his chest. He winds his fingers through Harry’s damp curls, and pulls him closer, leg falling from Harry’s shoulder to rest at his waist. It’s not even for a kiss, it’s just to feel their chests press together, to hear Harry’s breathing go messy, to press an open-mouthed kiss to Harry’s temple. He thinks he can feel the rush of Harry’s pulse erratic under flushed skin. 

 

Harry presses kisses to Liam’s neck, and Liam clings to him. He feels so fucking good, and overwhelmingly _loved_ , which is really, the thing that does it. 

 

“Marry me, Haz,” Liam breathes, nose pressed to Harry’s temple, a hand at the back of Harry’s neck. 

 

Harry’s thrusts falter for a moment, like he loses control, with a few misplaced, hard thrusts, that push the air right out of Liam’s lungs for a moment. Liam clings tighter when Harry makes a move to pull back, and Harry lets himself be pulled closer still, pressing his face into Liam’s throat, thrusting faster, hand finding Liam’s cock, slicked and messy from precome. “Yeah,” says Harry roughly, “Liam, _yes_.” 

 

He wanks Liam off in time with the rhythm of his thrusts. Liam writhes underneath him, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes at the intensity of it all. He comes with his back arched, and a wild moan, cutting off midway with a gasp as his cock jerks in Harry’s hand, hot come wetting their stomachs, dripping over Harry’s knuckles, and smearing between them. Liam looks down at their bodies, and moans at the sight, hand tight at the back of Harry’s neck, the other grasping at Harry’s arse, begging wordlessly for Harry to fuck him deeper. 

 

“Want you to come, baby,” gasps out Liam, “ _Harry_.”

 

“Liam,” gasps Harry, wet against Liam’s throat. “Liam, fuck.” Harry fucks him deep and messy, coming with a yell against Liam’s collarbone, and Liam pets through his hair as they both settle down. 

 

Their heartbeats slowly return to normal, and then Liam suddenly remembers to be nervous, remembers exactly what he said. He’d never take it back, he means it entirely. It’s just- that was the least romantic way it’s ever been said, probably, and Harry deserves more. More than some ridiculous sod who’d just spouted it off after thinking about it for _months_. 

 

Finally, Harry pulls out of Liam’s hold. His eyes look wet, like he’s been crying, and he looks down at Liam, wrecked, mouth parted.

 

“Did you mean that?” says Harry. 

 

Liam rests his hand on his own chest and feels the wild thump of his heartbeat start up again. He swallows, reaching out for Harry’s left hand - the one not covered in come.

 

“Of course I did, of course I want to marry you, Harry. Have done for ages, since we were kids. I’m sorry I said it like that, though.”

 

“I’m not,” says Harry, smile spreading warmth through Liam’s entire being. “I love you so much. I was about to propose to you, that’s what the trip was for.”

 

That makes Liam feel even worse. “I’ve gone and ruined your proposal,” he says, blinking up at the ceiling. 

 

Harry makes a little noise and then appears above Liam, interrupting the view of the blank white plaster above their bed. He’s so, so lovely. “Liam, you’ve not ruined anything. This was better than anything else I could possibly think of. I made you feel so good you _proposed_ ,” Harry says. He laughs, delighted, and it’s beautiful to watch. 

 

Liam’s still a little stunned, but he opens his mouth easily for Harry’s kiss, and the deeper Harry kisses him, pressing him down into the bed, the more he knows that this is right, this is _them_. It doesn’t matter how it happens, only that they’ll have each other for the rest of their lives. 

 

“I love you,” he says against Harry’s mouth as they part, and Harry looks down at him, soft, tears gathering in his eyes. 

 

“I love you, so much,” says Harry, and then his eyes light up. He presses a quick kiss to Liam’s reddened mouth, and then bounces off the bed, completely naked, with come drying on his stomach. He rummages through their closet for something, while Liam admires the view, and then turns around holding a little box. 

 

“Harry,” says Liam, very carefully, because he’s about to cry now, too. It’s just - he’s so bloody _happy_. 

 

Liam sits up against the pillows, body aching in the best way, as Harry jumps back onto the bed, pulling the covers up around their waists, and gathering Liam’s hand in his. He holds out the box, and Liam pops the lid open with his other hand, biting back tears when he sees the ring. 

 

“Harry,” he says, “Harry, that’s perfect.” It’s sleek and classic, settled in the plush of the ring box, until Harry picks it up and slides it onto Liam’s ring finger, dropping a kiss on Liam’s knuckle once it’s settled into place. Now Liam really is crying, and Harry thumbs away the tears before kissing Liam, sweet and soft. 

 

They pull apart, and rest their foreheads together, both looking down at the ring on Liam’s finger, a smooth contrast to the dark lines of Liam’s hand tattoo. 

 

They’re quiet for a moment, until Liam says: “Christ, what am I going to tell my parents?”

 

Harry cackles, throwing back his head. “Just say it was spur of the moment, just don’t tell them exactly, you know, what we were doing?” He smiles, looking a bit sheepish on Liam’s behalf, maybe, and Liam sighs. Unable to stop smiling, really. 

 

“C’mon, love,” says Harry gently, pulling at their entwined fingers, “let's get in the shower.” 

 

“Can I wear this in the shower?” says Liam, hesitant, concerned.

 

Harry gives him an odd look. “Liam,” he says.

 

“Right,” says Liam, “sorry, I just- I just love it a lot. I want it to be safe.” He looks up at Harry, and Harry’s whole expression softens to something hopelessly love-struck. 

 

Harry leans over and kisses the breath out of him, and when he pulls back Liam is a little dazed, swaying forward as Harry’s mouth leaves his. 

 

“Come on,” says Harry again, soft, and Liam gets up off the bed, their fingers still linked. Liam’s not sure he could stop touching Harry right now if he tried. “Shower for the both of us,” prompts Harry.

 

“Dunno how you’re suddenly the practical one,” says Liam, as Harry leads him towards their bathroom.

 

“M’taking care of you, aren’t I?” says Harry. 

 

Liam looks down at their intertwined hands, the shine of the ring on his finger. 

 

“Alright,” says Liam as Harry starts the shower, “I s’pose that’s allowed, then.”

 

Harry laughs, and the sound of it gets lost between the steam of the shower starting up, and the heat of new kisses. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I haven't read this over so there might be some mistakes but that's ok
> 
> hmu @weighted-orange on tumblr if u want!
> 
> also rn im looking for writing inspiration i think, so tell me anything u want me to write and it might actually happen bc for once in my life im feeling productive


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